


Check

by sinkingwmyships



Series: Multifandom Oneshots [7]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014), chess game and sexual? tension??, depressed Charles Xavier?, tumblr writing prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingwmyships/pseuds/sinkingwmyships
Summary: Check (v):(in chess) to move a piece or pawn so that the opposing king is under attack.[Prompt 9: "Did you do this to yourself?"]
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Logan, Erik Lehnsherr & Raven | Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy & Charles Xavier, Logan (X-Men) & Charles Xavier, Moira MacTaggert & Charles Xavier, Raven | Mystique & Charles Xavier
Series: Multifandom Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655530
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Check

**Author's Note:**

> Set in that plane ride scene in X-Men DOFP when they play chess. U know. Yes u do.

“Did you do this to yourself?”

Charles looked up from the chessboard, slightly startled by the question. Outside, the sky was pitch-black, to the point where even clouds could not be seen. Although the plane has not yet rocked, the brunet feared that a storm might be brewing — one as turbulent as the blue of Erik’s eyes at the moment.

He decided to ignore the obvious implication of Erik’s question, as he did with most other events in his life nowadays:

“Do what?”

“Get rid of your telepathy.” _Of course._ Erik was never one to hold back. Charles could hear it in his voice just now: the slight reproach, the disappointment, the regret framing the edges. _What do you know about regret._ He shrugged, gave a simple answer:

“I did.”

“Why?”

Charles cast his gaze down to the chessboard. He thought for a moment, then pushed one of his pawns forward before sitting back and reaching for his glass. He downed the rest of the alcohol, but somehow Erik’s frown burned still more than the amber liquid did.

“Charles, why?”

“Why not?” The brunet answered curtly, glaring now at the metal-bender over the rim of his glass. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“And it isn’t?” Erik snapped quietly, cognizant of Logan who was fast asleep a few seats away from them. “Charles, you destroyed a part of yourself. For what?”

“Your move.”

“What?”

“Your move.” His frown deepening, Erik glanced down at one of his knights. The chess piece shuddered, before sliding across the board right into the path of Charles’s rook. The telepath smirked before snatching it up, but the rook he was holding slipped out from between his fingers as Erik’s bishop moved to take its place. There was no humor on the blond’s face when he set the rook down with an audible clack, among the pawns and knight he had collected from Charles. _Damn, I’m losing._

“So what if I got rid of my mutation?” The brunet sat back, arms now crossed defensively in front of his chest. “Nothing about that was a part of me, anyway.”

“What?”

“Nothing about that was a part of me.” Charles repeated, his tone becoming harsh. “It was always about other people. And honestly? That’s fine. I tried, you know. I really did. I cared and I loved and I thought if I did enough of that, maybe it will finally mean something.”

“And it does.”

Something about that response made him mad. “How do you know? Because I did that and I still lost everything, Erik. Everything! And I know you don’t need me to tell you about loss, but _goddamnit_ , I fought and I gave and I trusted and in the end it didn’t amount to anything! Now the future is all fucked up and I’ve got to fix it and I have no idea how. I’m not even the version of Charles everyone wants! So how can you say that it meant anything?”

It was only when he was finished did Charles realize that the chessboard was hovering in midair, and that he himself was the one who had unconsciously pushed it off the table. A wave of shame washed over him, but Erik only rearranged the board before standing up and grabbing him by the wrist:

“Come on.”

“Let me go.” Charles tried to pull away, but Erik’s grip was steady. “Erik, please. I can't—”

“It’s fine if you can’t. I’ll do the talking instead, if you don’t want to.” The unexpected gentleness in the blond’s voice made him falter. “Besides, Logan really looks like he needs his sleep.”

His hand was positively stuck in Erik’s, and he didn’t want to wake a grumpy man with killer bone-claws, so Charles mumbled:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just to the back of the plane.” Erik did tell the truth, but Charles didn’t really care. Hell, even if Erik had said he was going to kick him off the plane right then, Charles didn’t think he would’ve noticed either. He was so exhausted, inside and out, that he allowed Erik to lead him into the small dark space and even lock the door behind them, without any further protests or questions as to what the blond was about to do.

“What do I mean to you, Charles?” Erik suddenly turned around to face him. In the tight space, Charles noticed the blue of his eyes seemed luminous. He stuttered:

“W-what?”

“What do I mean to you?” The blond leaned closer, forcing the brunet to step back. “I hope your answer isn’t "nothing”.“

"Wha- no!” Charles stuttered again, entirely uncharacteristic of himself. _Is the alcohol finally kicking in?_ He took another step backwards, but his heel struck the cold metal wall. There was no more space, yet Erik kept coming in closer and closer, until they were only about an arm’s length apart… maybe even less. “No, of course not.”

A moment of silence. Charles almost jolted when Erik spoke, in that quiet, low whisper he could never quite get used to:

“Good. Because you mean a lot to me, Charles. A lot.”

There was no need for telepathy to see how serious the blond was — and that scared Charles, just a little bit. “When I thought I was all alone, you made me realize I wasn’t. When I thought I had no allies, you showed me you were one. When I thought the path I was going down was set, you taught me how to use a whole new kind of strength.”

Erik paused again, contemplative. Charles was about to offer up some sarcastic remark about how he might’ve lost his mutation but not his memory, when suddenly he saw the blond raise a hand. The defensive part of him flared a warning, but all Erik did was brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“You’re right, I can’t tell you what to do with your ability.” The metal-bender continued, his voice kept to a quiet murmur — barely enough to drown out the thumping of Charles’s heart. “But I won’t stand for you treating yourself like this. Even if you think you’ve failed Raven, even if you think you’ve abandoned your students and your school… you saved _me_ , Charles. You still have _me_. Your efforts _do_ mean something. So, please, don’t ever think of yourself as worthless. Because you aren’t.”

Something warm fell down his cheek. Startled, Charles brought a hand up to wipe it away. Crying? Why was he crying? He hadn’t done it in years — not for Raven, not for Moira, not even for Erik. So why, how, _how_ could he cry for himself now, the most undeserving of them all, the most guilty, the most pathetic, the most—

“It’s alright.” The trembling of his hands halted first, when Erik grabbed hold of them despite their cold wet messiness — and then the trembling of Charles’s whole body, when the blond pulled him into a tight embrace. “Nobody’s going to judge you here, so you can cry as much as you want.”

Face buried in Erik’s chest, Charles expected to feel something — the roughness of his shirt, the sound of his breathing, even just the faintest whiff of the alcohol they both drank. Instead, all he could sense was warmth. So he cried. He cried for all the nights he spent awake, even with Hank’s serum coursing through his veins. He cried for all the days he spent drinking, even when his head felt like it was going to split apart. He cried for all the anger, the hate, the lies he gave to himself, because drowning in them felt still easier than facing the truth. He cried for it all — and also, for the thought that maybe, his efforts do mean something after all.

Maybe, what Erik had told him was really the truth.


End file.
